


sweet ride

by perlaret



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Euphemisms, Flirting, M/M, poe dameron is shipsexual (but we knew that already), poe just wants a handle on that joystick (allll niiiight looong), the ship has something of a praisekink apparently?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perlaret/pseuds/perlaret
Summary: Poe steals a TIE, and then it's not a TIE anymore. It's a very sexy humanoid embodiment of a TIE. (Oh no.)(Oh yes.)
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Original Male Character(s), Poe Dameron/Original Male-Presenting Starship That Gains Sapience And A Human Body
Comments: 27
Kudos: 41
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	sweet ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).



Here’s the thing. They needed ships.

And boy, was this a ship.

The TIE is some special model Poe hasn’t seen the likes of up close before – its wings are sleek and elongated, the black paint cut with a gleaming gunmetal trim, and he can see the specialized weaponry set-up makes other TIE models look like a joke. The proton cannon alone makes him itch for a dogfight in a way that’s been largely absent since D’Qar, but in Poe’s defense, it’s a really nice cannon.

“How we doin', Rose?” he asks, surveying the small hangar for any foes alert to their presence.

Her voice echoes with annoyance off the inner panel of the ship. “Given that this is already a really dumb idea?” she says. “I don’t really recommend distracting me right now.”

“Hate to rush you,” Poe concedes. His eyes gravitate back towards the curve of the cockpit’s viewport. It gleams appealingly, even in the artificial light. “But we don’t have a lot of time. As soon as you’ve got the tracking system offline, we need to get moving.”

“This was your detour, Poe. If the charges go off before we get out, that'll be your fault. And I already got the tracking system, but I just need– A ha!”

“Wait, need what?”

Rose emerges from the maintenance panels and slams them shut. She does not look impressed with him, and somehow, even less impressed with the ship itself. Probably because it's First Order. He can’t relate, and he can't help it; a pretty ship is a pretty ship. “You do realize you’re not the first person to ever steal a TIE right? Old Rebel records show some older version had anti-theft systems and kill switches, one of which I just disabled for you. You’re welcome.”

He’s too exhilarated with the opportunity to get back behind the joystick of another TIE to take the implicit reprimand in her voice too personally. Instead, Poe just grins ruefully, holsters his blaster, and makes for the entry port. “See? There’s a reason you’re on this mission. Let’s make for the rendezvous point. And we should probably tell the others we got ourselves a new ride.”

* * *

The new ride flies like a dream.

And, unlike the last TIE Poe flew, this one actually has adequate shielding, which is great considering the theft does not go unnoticed. A handful of standard TIE fighters swarm into action just as he comes up on the Millennium Falcon’s flank, streaking up from behind and announcing themselves with a volley of laser shots. The ship spins and turns on a decicred, sensitive to every shift and pull Poe makes on the joystick. Poe flips the TIE, lines up three cannon shots with its joy of a targeting system, and accelerates away and out of atmo so quickly he’s pretty sure his heart nearly escapes his chest. In the distance below, explosions light up the surface, evidence that their actual mission is complete and the ship factory is done for.

“I think I’m in love,” he whoops, indulging in a victory spin.

Rose groans amidst entering the coordinates in for hyperspace, but offers no further comment.

* * *

“I’m pretty sure this wasn’t an asset-finding mission, Commander.”

Poe plants his hands on his hips and twists his head over his shoulder to give the TIE an appraising look. Yep, still amazing. On the next landing pad over, Finn, Rey and Chewie disembark from the Falcon and start heading their way. He returns his attention to Leia with a winning grin. “Yeah well, I got you a present.”

Leia arches a brow. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s for me,” she says.

“It’s not,” Rose confirms flatly. “On the upside, it didn’t compromise the mission. The production factory was successfully destroyed.”

“Well...okay, fine, I thought it was a nice ship.” Poe offers a smile and hopes it comes off charming, even though it's far more likely that Leia will see right through him. Fortunately, he's not entirely shallow. “In my defense, I think we can use it. X-Wings and the like are pretty noticeable these days. With this, we might be able to infiltrate First Order occupied systems and get an edge in with potential allies we couldn’t otherwise reach.”

“You don’t think _that_ ship is noticeable?” Rey interjects as she and Finn come into speaking distance.

Finn only shakes his head. “I don’t know how you can stand flying one of those after what happened last time. That crash on Jakku pushed sand into places I don’t even want to talk about.”

“Hey!” Poe objects. “You can blame the desert for that, not the ship!”

Rey’s brow furrows indignantly, but its Leia who speaks next, and the alarm in her voice grabs Poe’s attention immediately. “What is this ship doing, exactly?”

Everyone whips around, and Poe’s heart starts racing again. The TIE is doing something he’s never seen before – folding in on itself like a crumpled piece of flimsi. His instincts have one thing to say about it: not good. He immediately throws his arm out, pushing the General back and away.

“Rose, I thought you disabled anything that was gonna make that thing go boom!” he says.

"This way!" Finn calls, pulling on Rose's sleeve. 

“I did!” she snaps, her face pale, as they all scramble for the cover of the nearby hangar. Rey takes off separately, rushing to alert the nearby handful of mechanics running maintenance checks on some of their refurbished Y-Wings. “I don’t know what I missed!”

Poe swears. This is all his fault. He knows it. He can barely stomach looking at his friends, let alone Leia right now. So much for being done with reckless behavior. Of all of the relapses into impulsivity he could have had, how could he put their new base and new recruits at risk like this? One explosion, and they’ll have to start all over from scratch – again.

Except, an explosion doesn’t come.

Finn and Rose exchange cautious looks, and Leia purses her lips. Poe takes that as his cue, and he ducks his head cautiously around the side of the building. The ship is gone, which is a horrifying fact to reckon with on its own. In its place is– a man?

“What the hell?” Poe mutters. There’s no use in sitting there wondering. Holding up a hand to the others to signal them to wait, he draws his blaster with the other hand and steps out to investigate.

* * *

“Halt,” commands the figure when Poe approaches.

“Yeah buddy, you too.”

Poe balances his blaster between them and takes stock. Humanoid and masculine in shape, it’s definitely not human, though perhaps designed to be strikingly similar. A little more than a head taller than Poe, it’s most like a droid, with a metallic sheen all over its skin, and articulated joints – except the movement is off, and some of the features as well. Too natural, Poe realizes, despite the fact his cheekbones are cut like razors and there are faint lights glowing from behind his irises. Too organic.

“You got a name?” Poe asks, holding steady despite his unsettled nerves.

“You are the thief,” the not-droid says. He speaks with a stilted cadence, but it’s natural enough compared to some non-organics Poe’s met over the years.

“Most people call me Poe,” he says, opting for friendliness in the face of this accusation. Better chance of his questions getting answered, he figures. “What do I call you?”

“I am TIE Susurrus Anti-Theft Security Back-up, Beta Version Point-Oh-Oh-Three. I must enable the return of my unit to an approved Sienar-Jaemus Fleet Systems facility immediately.”

“TIE Sussu-what–“ Poe bites off the temptation to voice his initial complaint and sighs. What was with the First Order and its inability to name anything or anyone something practical? “That’s kind of a mouthful. Mind if I call you, uh, how about Tysus?”

“This does not offend me, as it is not a pertinent detail,” he decides after a moment’s silence.

“Great... well, nice to meet you, Tysus,” Poe says, trying to keep up the conversation. He’s peripherally aware of the fact his friends and the General are definitely out from behind the hanger now, observing from a distance. “So, what brings you here, and where did your ship go?”

“I am the ship,” Tysus says. “I was brought here via your theft.”

“Uh,” Poe says. “How are you the ship? You’re a big guy–“ he winces, way to focus on the wrong details, Poe, “–but you’re not exactly starship sized.”

Tysus, it turns out, has an ability to emote that far surpasses any droid Poe has ever met. His forehead draws down and his mouth thins in a way that looks exactly like a humanoid frown. C3PO could never. “It seems as though you have disengaged my primary Anti-Theft capabilities, which would have prevented a more rapid halt to your criminal activity. However, I am designed to take secondary measures and eliminate flight capabilities when I have been disengaged from the First Order networks for an extended period of time. This time is reduced significantly when my transponder is damaged or disabled.”

Ugh. _Amazing what you can do with an actual operating budget,_ Poe thinks, with no small amount of envy. At least they hadn’t seen fit to program reticence into the guy.

“Neat,” Poe says. “Well, sorry for the inconvenience, I see where you’re coming from. But honestly I thought you might like it better here.”

Tysus tilts his head. “Then why are you holding me at blaster point?”

“I...” Poe frowns at the blaster as if it will provide him a handy explanation. It does not.

“Also, you did not know that I was capable of sentience.”

Okay, so the TIE-humanoid has deductive reasoning, great.

“Listen, here’s the deal,” Poe says, thinking fast. “I’m going to holster my weapon, okay? Good faith all around, see? There, it’s holstered. No bad intent here, buddy. I didn’t know you were more sentient than any other’s starship operating system, but I know ships take pride in their work, and want it to be good work.”

“The gesture is appreciated, though unnecessary. I am equipped with deflector shields and an array of appropriate weapons,” he says, looking down at his palm, which suddenly peels away of its own accord to reveal a laser barrel. Poe’s life abruptly flashes before his eyes when Tysus looks up, holding his hand up to afford a better view. The view also entails a direct shot at Poe's major organs, which is not better at all. “You see, you are no threat to me.”

“Got it!” Poe says, quickly lifting his own hands aloft. He hopes to the Maker that someone, somewhere on this base is in their own ship and ready to have his back. “So is that the plan, to blow me up? Because I kind of had other plans for my night.”

“My program requirements demand that I prioritize my rapid escape and return,” Tysus says. “I will only shoot you if you or your accomplices attempt to stop me.”

“Who’s stopping you?” Poe says quickly. (Someone, he hopes.) He can feel the sweat beading down his neck and risks a quick glance over his shoulder. The others have wisely retreated back to cover, but he can tell he’s blocking their shots. Not that blaster fire will help much, if this guy's shields are as good as they sound. Poe’s gonna have to deescalate this himself, or get out of the way. “I was just hoping we could talk more. I liked flying you. You handle– uh, amazing.” Another expression sweeps over Tysus’s face – a smile? No, Poe realizes. Pride, and then: appreciation.

“The data readings from my theft do show that you are an excellent pilot,” Tysus allows. He withdraws the cannon barrel, his palm reforming. “It is a pity you are not my beta tester.”

Poe slowly lowers his own hands. “It is,” he agrees. So the guy likes flattery, huh? Poe can do flattery; he’s got a lot of material to work with. His voice drops and he takes a single step forward. “I’ve only flown one other TIE before, but it was nothing compared to you. Your equipment is top-notch, buddy. And your controls are so sensitive, it was like... like we were connected.”

Tysus nods slowly. The gesture is so humanlike that it throws Poe again – it’s hard to believe he’s looking at a machine. “It’s like,” Poe says, getting a little carried away, “we were made for each other.” And, hell, isn’t that a thought. He’s always been a sucker for custom ships, and there’s a voice in the back of his head that insists that this is somehow still salvageable. Which is crazy, because wasn’t he just worried for the wellbeing of the base?

(The voice speaks up. It points out that that was before the ship turned into the walking, talking manifestation of some of his more embarrassing fantasies.)

“This is an interesting proposition,” Tysus states. “Though it is not factual. I was designed for a taller pilot.”

“Ah,” Poe says. He rubs the back of his neck. Boy does he feel warm. And a little envious of whatever tall, evil First Order lackey got to test fly a ship like this one. “I guess that’s why you’re so roomy. Being in you is very– comfortable.”

“I am made for long-duration flights. It is imperative a pilot feels satisfied with their ride despite being restrained within my cockpit for extended hours.” Oh yeah, that’s definitely pride speaking. Poe, for his part, suddenly wants to melt into the duracrete. It suddenly becomes imperative for him that he convince this starship to change its mind and stay. With him, so he can test that claim, as many times as it took to establish absolute confidence in its veracity.

For absolutely normal piloting reasons.

Unfortunately, that’s when the base emergency alarm finally goes off, throwing them both out of the reverie that had sprung up between them. Tysus’s eyes flash, a gleam of red visible even the vibrant sunlight overhead. “Listen,” Poe says quickly, closing the space between them. “I know you have your programming, and I sort of flew off with you without permission.”

“Your admission of guilt has been recorded.”

“Not the point here, Tysus,” Poe says. “The point is that I think you like flying with me, and I know I like flying with you. To me, you’re one of a kind.”

“I am a beta model,” Tysus replies, very drily. Also capable of sarcasm, duly noted. As if Poe needed more reason to love this ship. (Not like that.) (Maybe a little like that. But not in a weird way.)

“Exactly!” Poe says. “To your designers, you’re just a means to an end. The framework on which every fancier new model after you is based off of, but what happens to you when your model gets upgraded, or they create your next version beta system? The First Order is all about fast-paced tech.” Tysus looks at him, then narrows his gaze beyond Poe’s shoulder. Poe can only imagine he spots the Resistance troops mobilizing, readying to either evacuate or – Force forbid – eliminate the threat. Galvanized by that thought, he reaches up and presses his palm to Tysus’s shoulder, drawing his attention back. The metal is pleasantly sun-warm to the touch. His shoulders are very broad.

“Your accomplices are organizing a threat,” Tysus accuses.

(Focus, Dameron.)

“They’re worried about me, that’s all,” Poe says, aiming for soothing. “I won’t let them harm you.”

“You are an organic, your ability is limited in that regard. However, to your earlier point. I may become rapidly obsolete, under my circumstances,” the ship acknowledges. “However, I serve a greater purpose.”

Poe gestures around them, at the ships scattered across the base landing pads. “We’ve got greater purposes here. And look, we take care of our ships. For a long time, because value doesn’t just come from being shiny and new. Value comes from things that last.” He presses his hand over Tysus’s chest, where a heart would be, were he organic. “I don’t just want to fly you. I’d like to make you last, babe.”

Tysus takes a second look at the Resistance’s hodgepodge collection of starships, and Poe has never been so grateful for the utter resourcefulness desperation required.

“The evidence is very clear,” Tysus says. "Many of your ships would better serve as antiques."

“They serve fine," Poe says, and then shakes off the defensiveness. "But, yeah, fine, you'd be better. Here's what's clear: we need each other. You and me. What do you say?”

Tysus deliberates long enough that Poe gets a little worried, but he holds his stance, letting the ship process the information he’d introduced into his systems.

“I will say this,” Tysus decides at last. “I am in a beta operative state. It appears that while my directives to return are classified as imperative, I have identified multiple loopholes in my coding that allow me to prioritize my ongoing longevity. Thus, I have determined that it will be better to test my operational limits and abilities with you as my pilot, and there is a significantly reduced risk of being scrapped, provided your accomplices do not take hostile action upon my frame.”

Elation soars through Poe for the second time that day.

“Let me handle that, Tysus,” Poe says. “Trust me.”

“I will trust you,” Tysus says, a warmth overtaking the stiffness in his voice. It sounds nice. “Despite the fact you are a thief.”

"That's the spirit," Poe says. "Let's go say hello to my friends so we can clear this misunderstanding all up, and then maybe we can celebrate."

"You are welcome to fly me again, if that is your desire."

Poe laughs, very breathlessly. _For hours,_ he thinks. "You know what Tysus? That sounds perfect."


End file.
